the jersey devil got nothing on you, honey
by cradily
Summary: "Robert looks amused, relaxed in that way he only gets when they're up here, away from the city. Felix wants to kiss him, desperately; wants to just lean over, close the foot of space between them and scrape his fingers through Robert's hair, tug at him until they're curled together here, laid out on the bed of his truck." DD:aDDS, Robert/Dadsona


"Okay, okay, wait," Robert mumbles, holding up a hand, "I got this."

His eyes flutter shut briefly, throat bobbing briefly as he swallows. With the truck turned off Robert's face is only just visible, features highlighted soft under the artificial glow of the streetlight. Felix tries not to let his eyes linger too long, and fails, and also nearly spills his drink when Betsy snuffles at his elbow.

He scratches at her ears obligingly and grins when she settles, body a warm weight at his hip between him and Robert.

"Fuck el Chupacabra, marry the Jersey Devil, kill Bigfoot-"

"Booooo!" Felix jeers, pushing himself up to jab at Robert's shoulder.

"Don't _boo_ me," Robert says, "you're the one who wanted to play a game designed for teenagers."

Felix is beginning to rile himself up, voice going shrill in mock offense. "You would have to be a true buffoon, an absolute _fool_ -"

" _Fuck you_ , okay," Robert rebuffs, batting his hand aside, "I'll have you know-"

"-a clown of the _highest_ degree," Felix finishes triumphantly, chest heaving, "to pass up on the chance to fuck the Jersey Devil."

"You didn't even know who the Jersey Devil was two months ago, you don't get to be the arbitrary judge on how fuckable he is."

Felix raises his eyebrows, hand going to his heart. "Are you saying- are you, Robert Small, honestly trying to say you _wouldn't_ have sex with the Jersey Devil, given the chance?"

Robert faux-glares, pointing a finger over at him. "Not what I said."

"I'm calling bullshit." He's… a little drunk, probably, now that he thinks about. He's feeling loose and warm and happy, his mouth running faster and filthier than Felix would usually let it.

Robert looks amused, relaxed in that way he only gets when they're up here, away from the city. Felix wants to kiss him, desperately; wants to just lean over, close the foot of space between them and scrape his fingers through Robert's hair, tug at him until they're curled together here, laid out on the bed of his truck.

His chest _aches_ for wanting, so he lets his thoughts spill out like an oil slick from his mouth, an easy distraction from the affection Felix likes to imagine he sees in Robert's eyes.

"The thing is with the Jersey Devil, is- you can't _not_ fuck him, you know? He's got, like, the wings and the horns-" he raises his hands to his heads, miming horns, "and like, the whole 'leathery skin' thing going on. He's like- Robert, _holy shit._ "

Robert just blinks at him, slow and slightly judging, corners of his mouth creeping up into a smile. Felix forges ahead, hands trembling a little with fervor.

"Robert, the Jersey Devil is the _bad boy_ of cryptids. You know, the fucking- the dudes who show up at parties, all slick and shit on their motorcycle, and you _know_ they're trying too hard but you still want to bang them? I mean, shit, I wanted to bang them- some of my friends wanted to bethem, I think, but I'm pretty sure I was in the majority in wanting to fuck them. _That's_ the Jersey Devil, Robert. You know the kind of dude I'm talking about?"

Robert's grin twists into a smirk as he rambles, eyelids lowering sharp and wicked in a way Felix hasn't witnessed in weeks.

"I'm… familiar with the type," he says, fingers coming up to stroke slow and purposeful at the collar of his jacket.

His _leather_ jacket.

"Shit." His face is on _fire_. Embarrassment immediately replaces the warmth in his stomach left over from the rough purr of Robert's voice. He shoves his head into his hands, rolling over so his back is facing Robert.

He's going to have to move in with Amanda, he decides. It will be a sacrifice on her part, fitting him into her college dorm, but he has faith in her love of him as a father.

"Should I be flattered, or…?"

"You should be shutting up," Felix squeaks, skin blooming even hotter when Robert's chuckles make the truck bed shake just slightly, so fucking attractive Felix wants to punch him in the mouth.

(With his mouth).

"Sorry, sorry," Robert says when he calms down, hand brushing briefly against Felix's shoulder. "You're easy to tease, sometimes."

He flops over onto his back, arm flopped over his eyes. Betsy, miraculously enough, is still asleep, snoring away. "Fuck off."

They lay in silence again for a while, Felix's face eventually cooling enough for him to remove his arm. The city from out here really is beautiful- all warm, yellow lights set against the black velvet of the night sky.

Eventually, they pack up and head out, Betsy tucked away in the car's backseat and Felix dozing in the passenger.

"It would take more than one drink to get me too tipsy to drive," Robert tells him when he gives a token protest, revving the engine. "Besides, I think I've put you through enough for one night."

Robert stops in front of Felix's house quietly, rapping his knuckles against Felix's shoulder when he fails to stir.

"Up and at 'em," he says. "You need help getting in?"

Felix ignores the way his face heats up a little at the thought. "I'm good," he yawns, hauling himself out and nearly stumbling on the curb. "Shit- wait." He catches the door to Robert's truck with his hand before it can close behind him.

"Craig's team is going to the state championships Saturday- apparently it's pretty close by? I asked if it was cool to bring you along and he said sure."

Robert raises an eyebrow at him, face unreadable. "You asking me to be your plus one?"

"It's a children's softball game," Felix says, deflecting from the fact that he totally is.

Robert hums thoughtfully. "Depends. How shitty do you think the concession food'll be?"

"The absolute shittiest," Felix replies immediately, "and as a bonus, afterwards we can go get shitty pizza and watch the team moms try and hit on Craig."

Robert snorts. "Well, hell," he says and grins, "when you put it like that. Saturday?"

"Saturday," he says, and promises to message the details once he's sober.

They share a smile and Robert peels away, hauling into his driveway a few doors down. Felix crawls inside, just barely remembering to brush his teeth before he collapses in bed.

His cheeks feel sore for smiling the whole next morning, and Amanda makes fun of him when they video-chat, but it's so, so worth it.


End file.
